Breath of Fresh Air
by Zana Zira
Summary: Pre-Series, AU one-shot: Sam has had asthma his entire life, and usually he manages it just fine. But the winter air has never agreed with him, even in Palo Alto, and no one at Stanford seems to know enough about the condition to be any help. So when Sam suffers an inevitable asthma attack on campus, who will be able to help him this time? Asthma!Sam, Caring!Jess, Pre Sam/Jess


**Disclaimer: Supernatural and its characters are the property of Eric Kripke. Sadly, I do not own any of these guys.**

**A/N: This was written for a user on LiveJournal, who requested asthmatic!Sam having some trouble in the cold weather. Since I'm asthmatic and this happens to me all the time, I figured I'd give it a shot. Please let me know how it turned out. ;)**

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When Sam woke up on Friday, January 25, 2002 with only ten minutes before his eight-thirty class started, he knew it was going to be a bad day. After almost totally perfecting his morning routine during the previous semester, he now tried to be out of bed at least thirty minutes before class started, preferably forty-five. That way, he'd have time to make sure he had all his homework gathered up, eat breakfast, and tame the shaggy, messy mop he called hair before donning his favorite thick hoodie and heading off to his first class, which was about seven minutes away from his dorm room if he walked fast.

Today, though, he barely had time to snatch a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt off the hanger, nearly falling over as he threw off his pajama pants and top and pulled on his clothes with a toothbrush hanging out one side of his mouth. He snatched up his light blue inhaler, which he never left home without, from the bedside table and shoved it into his pocket, slamming the door behind him as he hustled out the door.

He decided to forgo the elevator in favor of the stairs this morning, since lots of other people usually wanted the elevator at exactly the same moment he did and there was no way he could afford to wait for it right now. Since it was only twenty-five degrees outside the stairwell was also chilly, and the exertion already had his chest tightening before he'd reached the bottom. Once again, he cursed the fact that he'd been born with asthma, remembering many a day when it had interfered with a hunt, or even just his day-to-day life, by knocking him on his ass the instant he decided to take the simple act of breathing for granted. And boy had _that_ led to some fun experiences when he lived in a family of monster hunters…

As Sam jogged across the campus, he reflected on the fact that choosing a class schedule with the buildings spaced so far apart, especially in the winter, had probably not been such a good idea.

The semester had only just begun two weeks ago, and already Sam was used to having a near asthma-attack every time he went to his Monday-Wednesday-Friday English class. It was no use taking his inhaler before he left his room – the cold air guaranteed he'd just be wheezing and gasping again by the time he covered the distance between his dorm and the classroom, and it wasted two sprays of precious, expensive medicine every time he tried it. If there was one thing his dad had always drilled into his head when he deigned to spoil Sam a little and buy him a new inhaler, it was that you never waste medicine.

Ideally, Sam would've just skipped class on the days he thought the cold would be too much for his body to take. The problem was, that would be nearly every day until the weather warmed up again, and the semester had only just begun. He didn't want his professor to think he was a slacker, especially since he was here on a very tightly regulated scholarship that could be taken away the instant the administration decided he wasn't performing up to their standards.

So, against his body's wishes, Sam ran to his English class as fast as he could manage, breath sawing in and out of his throat and chest aching as he tried to pull enough air in through a space that seemed more and more like a shrinking straw with every step. If he wasn't used to the feeling he would probably panic, but he knew once he got indoors he could just take a couple hits from his inhaler, stand there for a minute or two until his breathing returned to normal, and then go inside like nothing had happened. Easy as pie.

He just wished his classroom wasn't on the third floor of a building that had no freaking elevator.

Climbing stairs wasn't an issue for him normally, but in winter it was like asking him to scale Everest while holding his breath. And it was weird, but somehow the act of coming inside from cold to hot almost made it worse, even though the heat was supposed to help. It was almost like it reminded his lungs of how much he was abusing them – and seriously, he wasn't, normal people did this every day with no problem – and they decided they could go on strike now that they were warm.

Finally, after three full flights of stairs that felt like they would never end, Sam was outside the door, panting and wheezing as he leaned against the wall and tried to catch his breath. His forehead was dotted with cold sweat, and he unzipped his hoodie as he suddenly felt as hot as if he'd been standing in a furnace. He made sure to stand out of sight of the classroom door, because even though he'd been asthmatic for his whole life, there was still something about taking his meds in front of everyone that he couldn't stand. Probably the way they all looked at him like they were afraid he had something contagious, or else like he was about to stop breathing and fall over any second.

Smirking at the idea of simply toppling over and going belly-up like some kind of cartoon turtle, he reached into his pocket to retrieve his inhaler and find some relief before he made his way to his desk.

Except his inhaler wasn't there.

Starting to feel the first tendrils of worry creeping up his spine, Sam checked again, his hand scrabbling around in one pocket, then the other, and then the pockets of his pants, coming up empty each time.

Okay, so this was definitely not good. Where was it? If it was all the way back in his dorm, it was too far away to get now; the cold would only make it worse. And if he'd lost it somewhere along the way…

Now he was starting to panic for real, feeling his breath crackle and hiss with every inhale and exhale. The muscles of his throat were tensed and straining and he arched his neck, trying to open his airway just a little wider, and he was starting to get more than a little lightheaded.

_Can'tbreathecan'tbreathecan'tbreathe…_ his body seemed to scream, which was stupid because he already fucking knew that, dammit! His heart was pounding hard against his breastbone, and he rubbed his knuckles hard against his chest and then just under his collarbone, trying in vain to loosen up some of the tightening muscles as he started to see black dots swimming in his vision.

He felt his back hit the wall and slid down until he was more slumped against it than sitting, stuttering breaths squeaking in and out between his tingling lips and _yeah, I really don't feel so good right now…_ His back muscles tensed as his chest jutted out, trying to open his ribcage and suck in as much oxygen as possible but it just wasn't working.

"Hey, is he okay?" he heard someone shouting from down the hall. And what kind of question was that? He was barely breathing here! He pressed his palm to his chest, leaning forward a little and trying so hard to suck in air that he was actually vocalizing each inhale and exhale. There were footsteps echoing on the tile as they approached him, sounding strangely warped and far away as if they were under water.

Then someone was at his side – no, two someones – and the first girl was frantically searching for a cell phone and practically screaming that she was going to call 911, while the second knelt at his side and put one hand on his shoulder and the other on his heaving chest.

"Hey, just relax, it's gonna be okay," Second Girl said calmly, guiding him into moving so he was sitting on his knees and bending forward so he put less pressure on his diaphragm. She said something to shut the other girl up and made her put the phone away, and then turned her attention back to Sam. "Can you try to take a deep breath for me?"

Sam glared weakly at her but complied, achieving nothing but a strangled, crackling squeak before he was coughing and gasping so hard it nearly had him puking on the floor. Okay, so deep breaths were definitely still a no-go. And now he was hardly making any sounds at all, which his panicky, oxygen-starved brain blearily reminded him probably wasn't good.

"Alright, it's okay. You have asthma?"

"Y- es…" Sam gasped out, not even caring who was watching or who he freaked out now if he could just get some damn oxygen in his body. "C-can't… f – ind.. in… haler…"

The girl nodded, taking her hands off of Sam so she could search for something in her purse, and he really hoped it was an oxygen tank because he was about ten seconds from passing out and he wasn't sure his body would remember to keep trying to breathe when he did. And then she was pulling out a red asthma pump, shaking it furiously before taking the cap off and holding it to his lips since his hands were too shaky to do it himself. He had never seen anything so beautiful in his life.

"You know how this goes, big breath in and hold it," she said, and squeezed the pump twice. Sam took the biggest breath he could manage, which was barely any at all, but the difference was immediate. He was still wheezing horribly, but making more racket was good, it meant there was more air going in and out to _make_ noise. Then the inhaler was at his mouth again, and they repeated the same procedure two more times, until his lungs could expand to most of their normal capacity and the wheezing had mostly stopped.

"Thank you… so much…" Sam panted, hand pressed against his chest as he hung his head exhaustedly and relished the feeling of his lungs expanding again and again. It was only then he noticed that the other girl was still standing there, and Second Girl still had her hand on his back, rubbing up and down while she put her inhaler back in her purse and smiled softly at him.

"Glad I could help," she said, looping her arm under his and helping him stand. "My name's Jessica Moore, by the way. You can call me Jess. What's your name?"

"Sam. I'm Sam Winchester." And why hadn't he noticed until now how pretty her eyes were?

"Well, Sam, do you have a spare inhaler at home to replace the one you lost?"

"No, I… I guess I need to call it in at the pharmacy in a minute." He frowned, knowing the insurance only covered one every thirty days and he'd likely have to pay this one out of pocket.

Jess must have noticed the look on his face, because she said, "That's what I thought. I have a couple spares at home I can give you, if you want. I really don't want to send you out in the cold again on your own just yet. You have a nebulizer to use?"

"I, uh… No… I used to, but I left it at home when I moved here…"

"Hmm. Well then, you're definitely coming home with me for a while so you can at least get a treatment."

"Oh, no," Sam said hurriedly. "I still have to get to class, and –"

"Look," Jess said sternly, crossing her arms and motioning for her friend to go ahead and go to class, which she reluctantly did. "I have asthma too. I know the inhaler hasn't completely fixed everything, and I know it's going to come back just as badly the second you go out in the cold again if you don't do something to help yourself first. So if you don't come with me for hot tea and let me get you set up with a nebulizer treatment, I'm going to call 911 and have you taken to a hospital so _they_ can do it. Okay?"

Sam blinked at her, surprised that he could find absolutely no argument to get himself out of this one, and nodded.

"Good," Jess said with a smile. "Now come on. My car's just out front. Do you like hot green tea?"

"I don't know. I've never had it."

She clucked her tongue and smiled flirtatiously at him. "Oh, Sam, I have so much to teach you. Good thing we're playing hooky, huh?"

Sam smiled this time, a real smile, and nodded slowly.

"Yeah, it is."

The two of them spent the rest of the day relaxing in Jessica's apartment, talking and laughing and watching bad daytime television. Jessica told him she was a pre-med major from a family of doctors, which explained a lot when Sam thought back to how calm she had been while he was practically dying right in front of her. He told her he was pre-law, which she said was good as long as he promised not to get her slapped with a malpractice suit in the future for treating him with her own meds instead of calling paramedics.

Sam learned how much he loved hot tea, and also how much it actually helped loosen his chest when the air outside was cold. Jessica slipped two new inhalers into his bag while he was sipping his tea, wanting to be sure he always had one on hand, and then joined him for a conversation that ended with both of them laughing so hard they almost sprayed the tea out of their noses. By the time the sun set, Sam realized he was actually sad to leave.

"So, uh, Jess?" he said after she had driven him back to his dorm and parked out front.

"Hmm?"

"Do you think, uh… You might want to go out sometime? Maybe dinner next Saturday?"

"Sure. I'd love that. And Sam? Take care of yourself until then, huh?"

"Yeah. I promise I will." He felt his heart beating a little faster as she smiled and drove away, and for the first time in a long time, Sam felt himself able to breathe easy despite the bitter cold.

And in hindsight, when the two of them were living together and providing nightly warmth and comfort after a day of having their over-sensitive lungs assaulted by the winter cold, Sam realized that was probably the best – and weirdest – first date he'd ever had.


End file.
